


Reproduction

by calvinahobbes



Series: Parent!Phan [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M, Toddlers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-04-23 16:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19154539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calvinahobbes/pseuds/calvinahobbes
Summary: Becoming a parent doesn't magically make you another person.





	Reproduction

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to autumnhearth for beta!

It's almost three in the morning when the sound of the baby alarm wakes Phil up again. The sounds Isabella is making disturb him quite a lot, even in his barely awake state. She's coughing again and crying. He quickly turns the monitor off and drags himself out of bed, hoping the noise didn't wake Dan who has an early meeting with Young Minds in the morning.

She's sitting up in bed, cheeks burning and eyes wet with tears, and when she sees him she gives an even louder wail of despair which sets her coughing again. He sighs and picks her up, and she buries her wet face in his neck.

"Shush, Izzy, you're alright." 

She coughs pitifully in response. It's deep and wet sounding and a part of him really wants to recoil from the sensation of her germy breath against his neck.

He thinks he might fall asleep if he doesn't move, so he bounces her gently and heads down the hallway to the kitchen. They've been consuming a lot of hot water with honey these past few nights, and he hopes another cup of the stuff will help soothe her enough that they can sleep a little more.

She fusses and doesn't drink much, the sweet taste of honey having long lost its novelty by now. She's still warm, probably just from the exertion of crying and coughing, but he still worries enough to take her ear temperature (he knows it's inaccurate, and he knows Dan would roll his eyes and call him a hypochondriac, but he's asleep so he'll never know). The thermometer says she doesn't have a fever, so he googles "2-year-old wet cough" instead (another thing Dan would have a lot to say about), and reads through the same links he's already read a million times by now. And of course a vague sense of unease begins growing familiarly in his chest, but he's far too tired to try to stop it.

Finally Izzy seems to have calmed down enough to be a bit sleepy again. But as he gets up to take them both back to bed he is struck by a series of anxious thoughts: What if she really does have a fever and the thermometer just failed to pick it up? What if the cough is a symptom of something much more sinister and they're ignoring it because they think it's a common cold? What if the baby alarm runs out of battery or doesn't wake him next time? What if a cough chokes her and she can't breathe and there's never any sound to indicate it? He hugs her close to his chest and takes her into the bedroom.

They're almost situated, moving as quietly as he can make them, when Dan wakes up enough to notice. "What? Phil!" He's barely verbal but still somehow manages to sound extremely put out. "We said we wouldn't."

"I know," he whispers, "but she's sick, and she's coughing again. I just need to be able to hear her." Izzy's eyes are drooping, and she's snuggling down in the warm blanket next to Dan.

Dan whimpers and rolls away. "I have a meeting."

"I know. Go back to sleep."

Dan huffs and pulls the comforter up high over his head. Phil lies down, guilt making him feel wide awake, chest churning with worry still… 

He wakes once again with a start. He thinks Dan has said something, but he isn't sure what. 

"She hit me," he hisses then, and Phil struggles to make him out in the gloom without his glasses on. "She hit me in the _face_ , and I'm awake for the third time tonight, and - I - have - a - _meeting_!" Dan whispers furiously and he gets out of bed, yanking his duvet off with him.

"What're you doing?" Phil mumbles in utter confusion.

"I'm sleeping on the sofa," Dan hisses and manages to storm off without making any sound. 

There's a weird sense of unreality to things that happen in the middle of the night when you're barely awake and sleep deprived. Phil struggles to clear his mind and think of how to react for a moment, but then the quiet of the room and Izzy's unlaboured breathing overtake him and he drops off again.

 

The next time he wakes up, it's beginning to be light outside. Dan is bending over him, gently squeezing his shoulder. 

He's fresh from the shower and he doesn't seem annoyed when he mumbles, "If you want a shower today best make it now. I'll watch her." 

Phil nods and staggers out of bed and into the bathroom. He manages to shower and shave and brush his teeth, feeling weird and fuzzy all along. It doesn't feel like one of his headaches, a different kind of pressure building behind his temples. 

Dan has made him coffee when he gets to the kitchen, and Phil runs a hand down his back in silent thanks. He breathes in the scent and takes a slow sip with his eyes closed. When he opens them again Dan is watching him closely. 

"How are you?"

"I feel kind of weird," he days. "Maybe I'm coming down with what Izzy's got."

Dan hums. "Sure it's not a headache?"

"I know what a headache feels like." He turns to get toast ready, grateful that Izzy is occupying herself with her toys for now.

"Alright."

They're quiet for a moment while Phil loads up the toaster and Dan gets the butter and jam out and sets out to cook Izzy's oats in the microwave. 

"Maybe I should just cancel," Dan says.

Phil looks at him. "No! Don't do that. You'll just have to reschedule and you'll put everybody out. I can handle her on my own."

"You're sure you're not too poorly?"

"We can be poorly mopes and kick up a fuss together. Can't we, Izzy?" he calls the last across the room to her. She turns and shows him her stuffed shark. "Nice!" he commends. "Are you ready for breakfast?"

When they're finally sat by the dining table getting some gruel into Izzy, who doesn't seem hungry or interested in the proceedings at all, Dan can't help but ask again. "Are you sure it's alright?"

"I said it, didn't I? It's fine. I'd have to keep her home from daycare anyway, so filming is out the window no matter what. But you know I can just move some stuff around."

"I'll try to make it short."

Phil can't help but snort a bit at this, but he squeezes Dan's arm and holds his hand briefly, until Izzy suddenly wails at the unfairness of being kept in the high chair. He gets her wiped off and back on the ground with only the threat of tears and goes with her to her play station near the sofa.

" _Why_ can't you put the washcloth in the bin as soon as you're done with it!?" Dan suddenly explodes. Phil turns to stare at him, completely taken aback by his outburst. "Can't you see this place is a mess!?" 

Phil blinks, and it's that thing that always happens; the minute Dan says it, he does see it. Suddenly the dirty dishes on the dining table, and the breakfast items on the kitchen counter, and the dirty dishes from last night in the sink, and the two used sippy cups and the half of an apple by the fridge, and all of Izzy's toys and clothes strewn across the living room floor snap into clear view. "Sorry?" he tries, but Dan isn't done.

"I feel like we've only just moved in and it used to look so sparkly and now it's just a fucking pig sty!"

"Hey!" Phil says, slightly offended.

"Ooh, did I break a rule? Did I say the F-word? Well, I guess it's a day for breaking rules, isn't it?"

"I said she was sick! I was afraid of leaving her alone. What if she'd stopped breathing?"

"Phil," Dan says in the verbal equivalent of an eye roll. 

"It happens!"

"It happens with babies, not toddlers who have a head cold." He is speaking calmly again, in his natural voice, and whatever frustration caused by sleep deprivation seems to have passed for now.

Phil goes back to dining table, picks up the dishes and goes over to him. "I'll try to tidy up a bit. I'm sorry you think we're a mess."

"Thank you," Dan murmurs and moves in for a kiss, but Phil dodges his attempt.

"Don't. Don't wanna give you my cold." He goes to put the dishes in the dishwasher but then remembers it needs emptying. Oh right, that's why yesterday's dishes are in the sink. He suppresses a sigh.

"If it even is a cold," Dan says wryly.

Phil knows exactly what he's implying. "Alright! Isn't it time for you to be off?" He raises an eyebrow at Dan who answers with one back.

"Maybe it is."

"Have a lovely day at work," he says ironically. "You spoon."

"Buffoon."

"Racoon!" He can't help smiling as he says it.

Dan laughs. "Loon."

"Caw!" He flaps his arms and Dan laughs again.

"Caw! Caw!" Izzy says, suddenly right there, looking up at them and flapping her arms too, then coughing. She holds up the stuffed shark, which she brought over with her. "Daddy kiss."

"Kiss the shark? Okay." Phil takes it and kisses its slightly crunchy nose and tries not to grimace. He points the shark back at her and then gives Dan a sly look. "Baby shark dodo-dodo."

Izzy claps her hands and takes the shark back. "Daddy shark dodo-dodo," she sings, walking back off to her other toys. "Iggy shark dodo-dodo." She coughs again, which makes Phil wince. "Dada shark dodo-dodo."

"That's my cue," Dan says. He turns to grab his phone and then goes over to crouch next to Izzy. "Dada has to go. Will you stay here with Daddy?"

Izzy looks up at him. "Go car?"

"Mmm, well I do have to go by car, but it's not a fun car."

"Iggy with you," she complains and Dan sends a quick grimace Phil's way. It's always a toss-up whether she will care if one of them is leaving or not.

"Iggy has to stay with Daddy."

"Yeah, Iggy! Don't you want to hang out with me?" Phil tries. "We can sing - baby shark dodo-dodo…"

A heart-rending wail bursts out of her then, as she goes from absolutely fine to inconsolable in zero seconds. "With Dada!" she cries. Dan bends down to kiss her reddish blond curls as Phil goes over to pick her up. As he lifts her she screams and kicks her legs. 

Phil sighs and tugs her up close, and Dan looks at him apologetically. "Just go," he says. 

Dan stares at him for another second before leaning in, hand on Izzy's back and planting a kiss on Phil's forehead as well. Then he's out the door.

 

It sets the tone for the rest of the day. Izzy is fussy and unable to concentrate. She has short bouts of playing or singing or laughing, but anything that doesn't please her sets her off again. She doesn't want to eat, she doesn't want a bath, she doesn't want her teeth brushed, she doesn't want her nappy changed, she definitely doesn't want to wear clothes… Phil is tired and groggy by nap time. The headache thankfully doesn't manifest but it still keeps lurking, threatening to emerge fully at any moment. When he finally gets her to fall asleep he is exhausted and knows he needs a break before he can do anything else.

He wakes up after a nearly two-and-a-half hour nap, feeling if anything worse than when he fell asleep. He checks the baby monitor but thankfully it appears that Izzy is still asleep. He goes to fix himself a snack and some more coffee.

While he eats he checks his phone. There's a snap from Bryony, a picture of her giant pregnant stomach and her feet nearly hidden by it with the caption, "Beached whale on the sofa. Send snacks?" and a whale emoji. He snaps a selfie that looks truly horrendous and sends back, "May have got Izzy's cold" and three sneeze emojis. 

He has barely finished eating when Izzy announces that she is awake again. Checking the time he sees that she has slept a little over three hours, which isn't bad for a poorly toddler. 

Once she gets over her post-sleep fussiness she seems in a slightly better mood, and he mentally crosses all fingers and toes that it's the case. They play quietly for a while, Izzy cooking for him on her little play stove, and Phil exclaiming at all the delicious play food she serves him. He knows Dan hates this Christmas present from his own parents, but when Phil sees how much she's enjoying it, he really can't be too righteously indignant about ingrown gender stereotypes and social conditioning and all that stuff Dan talks about. Maybe she'll be a master chef one day, he thinks, not for the first time, and feels an odd pinch in his heart.

It's almost five by the time he gets up to check his phone and Dan sends him a text saying he's on his way home finally.

Phil surveys the living room then. “Should we tidy this place up a bit for when Dad comes home?” he says.

Izzy looks up at him with what surely can't be surprise and then quickly away again. She goes back over to her little stove and grabs something seemingly at random. It's a crochet blueberry muffin. “It?” she says and holds it out to him, clearly hoping to intrigue him into playing instead.

He pouts and sighs dramatically. “No, I know. I don't want to either. But if we do it we'll make Dada happy. Tidy up for Dada?”

She nods but turns away again and picks at one of the tiny blue yarn specks with her chubby fingers, carefully pinching with index and thumb as if she is very busy with something else.

“Oh, we need music, don't we? What's that song?” He pulls out his phone and searches YouTube. 

The first note has barely been struck when Izzy throws down her toy and raises her arms in a cheer, bouncing up and down. “Dada!” she yells, and then immediately starts singing along. “Piiick up. Pick up toy. Piiick up. Pick up bock!” 

Phil laughs and bounces around with her. “Oh, is this Dad’s song? I’ll make sure to tell him that.” 

She comes over to watch the video, mashing her fingers down on the screen at the various cartoon kids. They watch the video and then Phil quickly turns it off and puts it away, not giving her a chance to pout by saying, “Want to be like the children in the video? Come on!” He reaches and picks up a box. “Piiick up,” he sings and drops a block in.

It seems his distraction manoeuvre has worked, and Izzy looks around for a toy to put in the box. She finds another block and drops it in carefully. It lands right on top of the one Phil put in, up against the corner. She looks at him in surprise.

“Oh!” He raises his eyebrows to acknowledge that this is truly astonishing. “It went right on top. Can you get the next one right on top as well?”

She nods and turns to search for another wooden building block. Clearly concentrating, she picks one up and set it down very carefully on top of the other two. “Tha!” she says triumphantly.

“That's very good!” 

“More!” She picks up two blocks this time, one in each hand.

“Careful…” Phil reminds her. He sets the box down slowly so the blocks don't slide or tumble and watches as the next block puts the small tower level with the edge of the box. “Uh-oh,” he says. “No more room.” 

Izzy looks at him in interest. Then, with a mischievous expression, she places another block on top and laughs uproariously. 

“Oh no! It's not in the box!” Phil laughs as well.

Gleeful now, Izzy puts another block on top. She looks at him expectantly and he smiles in encouragement. The tower is beginning to get wobbly. The next block she places sends the tower crashing down, out onto the floor of course, making Izzy laugh again, and that's when they hear the key in the lock and the front door opening.

Phil has just a moment to cringe at the mess all over the floor before Dan appears in the door. 

“Hello,” he says in his soft Izzy-voice, and then a bit more strained, “I see you’ve had fun.”

Turning on the floor to face him, Phil shrugs apologetically at him and takes Dan in. He looks tired and a bit more rumpled than this morning. Phil watches his face smooth out in loving adoration as Izzy runs across the floor to him, dragging the storage box behind her.

“Hello, Iggy,” he says and crouches down to hug her gently, closing his eyes and breathing her in. 

Izzy’s greeting is more perfunctory, and she pulls away quite quickly, reaching again for the box. “Look, pick up Dada.”

“Did you pick up for Dada?” He looks searchingly at Phil who nods and shrugs apologetically again. Dan looks in the box where three lone building blocks are now rattling around. “That's so lovely. Did you do that for me?” He rests a hand gently on her back and Izzy nods.

“I did try to get us sorted a little bit,” Phil says quietly.

Dan gestures at him. “It's fine. I know how it goes.” 

“Uh-oh!” Izzy says, drawing Dan's gaze back to her.

“Uh-oh?” He raises his eyebrows. “What happened? Did something happen in Izzy’s nappy?”

“Nooo,” she laughs and twists in his grasp, but he quickly holds onto her so she can't get away.

“No? Are you sure? Dada look.” He stands over her and checks quickly and Phil marvels that she’s not kicking up a storm. Dan makes a face. “Liar, liar, pants on fire!” he mock screeches and blows a raspberry on the back of her neck. Izzy squeals in delight and squirms in his grasp, then plonks her face against his leg.

Phil sighs and gets up. “Come on, Izzy. Let's go fix the nappy.”

“No, not Daddy,” she screams. “Dada do it!” And she clings to Dan’s legs. 

“Let Dad have a rest, love, he just got in.”

“Dadaaa!” she wails, and Phil looks exasperatedly at Dan who shrugs.

“It’s fine,” he says. “Come on, Izzy. Let's go to the little girls’ room and freshen up.”

He holds out his hand and she takes it docilely and walks with him into the hallway. 

“I’ve been fighting with her to do that all day,” Phil says in outrage. He knows that's just how it is sometimes, but he still can't help being put out by it.

Dan smiles over his shoulder. “Dad just does it better, doesn't he, Izzy?” 

Phil rolls his eyes at him as they leave, and then hears Dan's voice go, 

“No, not Izzy's room, the bathroom…” He laughs. “Which is sometimes called the little girl’s room. That is silly, I know. That's Dad and Daddy's bedroom, where _they_ are supposed to sleep. And down there is Izzy's room, where Izzy is supposed to sleep…” His wry narration gets fainter as they move along the hall. Phil doesn't even bother rolling his eyes.

 

As soon as Phil is alone he feels instantly exhausted, but he resists the call of the sofa in favour of actually getting some tidying done. By the time Dan and Izzy are back from the bathroom he has finished with the toys and moved on to the kitchen.

With Izzy balanced on one hip Dan comes over close and leans against the counter next to him. He gives Phil a soft, searching look. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Phil says, trying his best not to sound too foul-tempered.

“How is your head?”

“It's better,” he shrugs.

“Mmm. Safe enough for a hug?” 

Phil nods, only pouting a very little, and leans heavily on Dan then. Izzy's small, damp hand comes up to pat his face.

“Mmm!” Dan moans and hugs them both close. “I missed this. Missed the two of you.” He leans back to kiss first Izzy and then Phil on the cheek. “What about her cough?”

“It's better after her nap. Her mood is better too.”

Izzy squirms then to show she's had enough cuddles so Dan slides her down and she walks over to her toys and begins to pull them out from the boxes Phil just put them in. For one second he just wants to cry, but then he is enveloped in Dan's arms once again and everything feels instantly a little less terrible.

“How was the meeting?” he mumbles against Dan's shoulder, which shrugs under his cheek.

“It was fine. It's the usual; too many discussions and too few actionable decisions.” He squeezes his arms around Phil’s middle for a moment and then lets out a long sigh.

“Dada, come!” Izzy says from her play station.

Dan leans to look at her. “Yes, Isabella?”

“Come!” Phil turns to see her gesturing at Dan.

“What do we say?”

“Dada, please come.”

He sighs and extricates himself from Phil. 

Just as he's done so, Phil's phone buzzes with a facetime call from Bryony.

“How’s the tummy?” Phil says in greeting.

“Larger than ever,” she replies.

“Mummy!” Izzy screams and goes staggering towards him, Dan following sedately behind. Phil crouches down so she can see Bry on the screen.

“Hello, love. How's my favorite girl?” Bry coos.

“Oh, I'm alright,” Dan jokes coyly as he bends down to give her a wave. 

She rolls her eyes at him and smiles. “How’s her cough?”

“Yeah, I think it's better,” Phil says. 

“Do you think it will be gone by tomorrow?” she asks anxiously. Tomorrow is Friday and Isabella is supposed to go to Bryony after daycare.

“I hope so,” he says.

“We want to keep her if it's not gone,” Dan cuts in. “Absolutely no need to give you a cold at this stage.”

“I know,” she says sadly to him before going back to Izzy. “I just really miss you, don’t I, love? Have you had a nice day with Daddy?”

They talk for a bit longer before hanging up, about the cold and the pregnancy and Izzy. 

 

Dinner is a combination of take-away and freshly cut fruit in a feeble attempt at balancing their diet just a bit. As soon as they're done, Phil gets Izzy off to her own bed while Dan starts cleaning up the kitchen. 

When Phil gets back, the kitchen is gleaming and the living room floor is empty and there's a cup of coffee waiting for him. Dan is sat by the kitchen island, scrolling through his phone. Phil slings his arms around him from behind and gives him a tight hug.

"What was that for?" Dan asks in surprise when Phil moves to take the cup of coffee.

"For cleaning up after us. And making me coffee."

"You're welcome," Dan mumbles.

Phil sits down across from him. "Did you know she calls the clean up song your song?" He smiles as he thinks back on it.

"She does?"

"Yeah, we played it this afternoon. I _wanted_ to have the place tidied up before you got back." He pulls an apologetic face and takes a sip of coffee.

When he looks back Dan has covered his face with both palms. He makes a noise of frustration. "Am I giving her a complex?"

Phil frowns. "What are you on about?"

Dan lets his hands fall. "Am I just giving her all my complexes? Shoving them down her throat with all the best intentions." He slouches over the kitchen island and Phil reaches over to pet his hair.

"Of course not. And of all your complexes I hardly think cleaning is the one she'll be taking to a shrink in twenty years."

Dan tilts up his head and glares at him. "Alright."

Phil grins and sits back. "Don't worry about it. My mum made me clean up after myself every day for years, and look at me now!" 

"On second thought, maybe just a small complex. Just a tiny voice in the back of her head always saying, 'Clean up your mess or your dad will be so disappointed in you.'" 

"You're horrible!" he laughs.

"You're one to talk! How's your cold coming along?"

For some reason the implication in Dan's words stings a bit more than Phil was ready for. He sits up a little straighter. "It's weird."

"Mhm." 

"I know sometimes my imagination goes a bit far, but I really did feel as if I was coming down with something," he says, unable to keep his tone light. He doesn't want to look at Dan because he doesn't want to see the look on his face right now in case it's disbelieving.

Dan sighs and squirms a bit. "I didn't mean to doubt you, Phil. I just wish you didn't worry so much. And I appreciate what a tough job you had of Izzy today. I felt so guilty leaving you behind like that. I kept thinking about it all day."

Phil feels his hurt immediately assuaged. He exhales and gets up and goes around the counter, right up into Dan's space and kisses him soundly. Dan stops him when he tries to pull away, so they stay like that for a while, kissing deeply and slowly. 

"Mmm, this is why Izzy needs her own bed," Dan murmurs and slings an arm around Phil's neck, drawing their bodies in closer together.

"Mhm," Phil agrees, chasing his lips and capturing the bottom one again. 

Out of the blue, he sneezes. 

He barely has time to pull back and aim his head away from Dan, who still shrieks at him.

"Eugh! You just gave me all your germs!" he wails and pulls out of Phil's arms.

"I _told_ you I was coming down with something!" Phil crows.

Dan stares at him in disbelief. "That's all you have to say? Not, 'I'm sorry for being a disgusting freak who just sneezed in your mouth'?"

"I didn't!"

"You almost did!"

"Come here, I'll kiss it better."

"Get away from me! You're disgusting!"

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. [Like/reblog on tumblr.](https://calvinahobbes.tumblr.com/post/186023817060)


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